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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742209">there in your forgetting</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbecauseyoubelievesomething/pseuds/justbecauseyoubelievesomething'>justbecauseyoubelievesomething</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Writer's Month 2020 Prompts [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bartender Clarke Griffin, Drinking to Cope, Drunk Bellamy Blake, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Oops, Soulmates, canonverse, if Clarke stayed on her own for much longer after s2, this is just kind of sad in general</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:13:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>863</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25742209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbecauseyoubelievesomething/pseuds/justbecauseyoubelievesomething</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A Bellarke drabble for Writer's Month 2020. Prompt 5: soulmates.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, mentioned Niylarke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Writer's Month 2020 Prompts [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863823</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Writer's Month 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>there in your forgetting</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title comes from the quote, "I was there in your forgetting, until I was forgot." - Lang Leav</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She feels him when he steps into the bar, even with her back turned. His presence is like fire; a sudden blaze that scorches her soul, reminding her what heat feels like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steadies herself, forcing herself to finish wiping out the damp mug in her hands before turning to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s taller than in her memories, or maybe that’s the imposing black jacket with the all-too familiar Guard insignia embossed over the leather. Or possibly the long rifle slung across his back, butt sticking up over his right shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dark curls are wilder, falling over his ears and sticking to the back of his neck. But the tic in his jaw is the same. She watches it clench and unclench as he sits at the stool in front of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bellamy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like a drink.” The request is a low growl, barely discernible even in the quiet room. But she doesn’t have to hear it to feel it in her bones, vibrating parts of her that she forgot existed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rests his fist on the bar with a soft thud. Not threatening, not to her. But enough to shut off her flow of questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like a drink,” he repeats. He won’t meet her eyes directly, his stormy gaze locked on the swirls in the wood grain of the countertop. Clarke built that countertop with her own two hands, sanded it down to a soft finish. She built the stool Bellamy is sitting on, carefully whittling the legs until they were the right thickness. Niylah helped her with the walls and the roof. Over the course of a summer, they built Clarke’s bar. A place for letting go. A place for people to forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand shakes as she pours him a drink from the still and slides the mug across to him. He sniffs it with a wrinkled brow then downs it in two gulps, only shuddering slightly as it hits his tongue. He slams the mug down and finally meets her gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tastes like shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something (anger? surprise? laughter?) bubbles up into her throat and makes her jaw ache. “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stare at each other across the bar like that, unblinking. Unwilling to be the one that breaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Bellamy shoves the mug forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give me another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fills it, sloshes a little over the rim as she slides it to him. He lifts an eyebrow at her and downs the whole thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pours him another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s tempted to have one herself, to dull the sharp edges of his presence. But there’s another piece of her that savors the sharpness. The memory of him had dulled with time, but here he is real and ragged and slicing her open bit by bit. Every breath is a painfully vivid feeling. Every bob of his throat is something real and living.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She asked Niylah one night if she believed in soulmates. Niylah rolled over in bed, clutching her blanket to her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soulmates?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, like…” Clarke waved her hand in the air as she tried to pluck the images from her mind. “Partners?… Meant to be?… Soulmates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Niylah only laughed. Gently of course, because Niylah was always gentle with her. “I think we take joy in the moments in front of us. I don’t think we need to wait for a soulmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you’re wiser than me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellamy drinks his sixth drink and looks at her with slightly clouded eyes and Clarke teeters on the edge of anger and wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” It comes out as barely a whisper, but he hears her. He always does and she always knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellamy chuckles, low and raspy in his throat. Runs his finger over the warped rim of his mug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing works without you, you know that?” he starts. Then he shakes his head, pulling himself up a little. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t work without you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses his palms down on the counter and Clarke watches the white tension run across his dark skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too, Clarke,” he growls. “I know you feel it. Us. Don’t tell me that you don’t feel how it’s all wrong when we’re apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like a gap from a missing tooth. Like the aching howl of a winter wind. Like a hole punched through the wall of her lungs, sucking away her oxygen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tries to look away, wiping at a non-existent stain with her rag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re drunk, Bellamy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts laughing again, a series of ravenous chuckles that reminds her of the early dropship days. A Bellamy wreathed in chaos.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever you say. Princess.” He swallows the last of his drink and shoves himself to his feet. The stool screeches behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re leaving.” She doesn’t know why she’s startled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bellamy smirks and spins around a little, arms spread wide to indicate the room. Her little bar. Her place to forget.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He faces her again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who left. Remember that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaves her with a damp rag in her hands and a numbness in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pours herself a drink. Time to forget again.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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